


the Sun and the Moon

by elenei



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: sister drama
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-26
Updated: 2017-05-26
Packaged: 2018-11-05 06:04:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11007519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elenei/pseuds/elenei
Summary: Arya and Sansa are reunited at Winterfell but old feuds and hurt feelings still linger between the Stark sisters.





	the Sun and the Moon

I should have killed him when I had the chance, Arya thought as she watched them. To most it would appear they were no closer than any other lady and her sworn shield but Arya knew better. She looked with her eyes and saw the truth. And it made her sick with anger.

“She had no right to bring him here,” Arya growled. Gendry shook his head sympathetically.

“I wouldve left him for the Walkers.”

Arya wasn’t sure what she would’ve done but she appreciated the sentiment. 

“She cares for him,” Arya said, aloud for the first time though she had suspected for a fortnight. Gendry had a look of disbelief on his face. Arya couldn’t blame him for that. It didn’t make any sense to her either. Once her sister had dreamed of nothing but handsome princes and the beautiful babies he’d give her. Sandor Clegane’s ugly burned face was about as far from that as you could get.

“Is she simple?” Gendry asked.

“No.” But I wish she were. It would make this easier to accept. Arya watched as Sansa touched his arm then they shared a glance. She turned in disgust and walked away from the hall. Gendry followed close behind.

“You and your sister don’t get along.” It wasn’t a question.

“Sansa never liked me. She wanted me to be a lady like her. But I wasn’t,” Arya explained. “I couldn’t sing or dance or sew.” She hadn’t thought she cared anymore but being confronted with her older sister again was bringing back old memories. “They used to call me Arya Horseface.” Arya had never confided that to anyone except Jon. Arya wished he was there now. She could tell him about all her suspicions. He would know what to do.

Gendry was scowling fiercely. 

“Then she is simple,” he declared. “You’re just as pretty as her and clever and brave besides.”

Arya punched his shoulder but he just smiled like an idiot. 

“It doesn’t matter,” She insisted when they got to their room. “It was a long time ago.”

He didn’t look convinced and Arya wasn’t so sure herself. Arya didn’t even think she could trust Sansa. It wasn’t just Sandor’s presence that disturbed her either. Her sister’s choice in men might have changed but some things hadn’t. She still told more lies than truths. And she wasn’t nearly as good at lying as she thought.

“She still hurt you,” he said once the door was shut behind them. Arya shrugged. She had endured worse hurts than any names Sansa had called her. But Gendry must have seen something in her face because, after a flash of uncertainty in his eyes, he took her hand. Arya bit her lip. He touched her more now than he ever had before. Or maybe it was just that she noticed it now.

They talked no more about Sansa but Arya’s mind raced with thoughts of her.

When Arya laid her head down against the furs that night she reached for Nymeria. She was tucked away in a warm bed with Gendry snoring softly while her wolf was outside the frozen castle walls, hunting with her pack. Arya could feel her presence as if she were close enough to touch. Closer than a touch. Arya smiled but it was followed by a sharp stab of guilt. Sansa has no wolf. She remembered. Only a dog. Perhaps for the first time in their lives Arya had something Sansa did not. She felt pity for her sister. Arya could not imagine life without Nymeria.

When Arya finally fell asleep she did not dream of wolves. It was father who visited her that night. They talked for a long time and when Arya woke his words were still echoing in her ears.

Sansa had thought it would be different. When she had heard Arya still lived she had imagined how they would reconnect. We are not the girls we had once been, Sansa had told herself. They would not quarrel over silly things anymore but would be proper sisters.

And at first it had almost seemed that way. They had embraced and Arya even kissed her cheek. Sansa was surprised by how much Arya had changed. She still wore boy’s clothes with a sword on her hip and her hair barely reached her ears but she was almost pretty. That wasn’t the only thing that had changed. She was sharper than Sansa remembered. Arya was all edges and Sansa feared if she reached out to touch her sister she would prick her finger and bleed. Sometimes Sansa would catch her sister looking at her and would swear she could anger burning there. She didn’t have the courage to ask why. She was afraid to know the answer.

Arya still cared little for discretion, though. Her little sister was shameless about her companion. He trailed around wherever she went like a puppy. Nymeria was never far either. She was even more aloof than her master. Sansa had heard the rumors of the girl and her wolf but seeing it had stunned her. Nymeria had grown into a fierce beast, nearly the size of a horse and was a mankiller if you believed the tales. Sansa almost hated Arya for that. Her wolf was alive and strong and by her side while Lady had been reduced to bones in the ground. It wasn’t fair. If Arya had controlled herself on the Trident things might have been so different.

I mustn’t think like that, she scolded herself as she hurried through the halls to her sister’s room. It was early morning and she thought they might break their fast together and talk.

He was with her, of course. He never leaves, Sansa thought, irritated. He opened the door and stepped aside warily to let her past. She had been waiting to get Arya alone but she should have known better.

Her sister was a short and slender thing, not quiet ten and three. Sansa wondered if she had even flowered yet. She’s still just a little girl. But her blacksmith was a man grown. He was tall and muscular. You could see the strength in him even from a great distance. Sansa bristled with discomfort.

“May I have a private word with my sister?” She asked him. Her voice was courteous but cool. His face screwed up at her request. Sansa wondered if he was stupid. He looked at Arya. It wasn’t until she nodded that he retreated.

The silence settled between them thick and awkward.

“He cares about you very much,” Sansa started.

“We’re friends,” Arya answered shortly.

“How did you meet?” Sansa was genuinely curious. They were so close that she suspected they had known each other for some time. She had no clue what her sister had been doing in the years she had been assumed dead. Arya hadn’t offered any clues. Sansa had remained tight lipped about her own time in King’s Landing as a hostage and in the Vale as a bastard. She did not want to think of that anymore. She supposed Arya might feel the same. 

“We escaped King’s Landing together.” It was another vague answer except this time Arya almost narrowed her eyes. It was as if she was trying to see inside Sansa’s mind and it made her squirm.

“He’s often by your side,” Sansa said. She didn’t need to mention the room sharing…the bed sharing that the maids whispered about, but she had to make her sister see, not just how inappropriate this was, but that she should be careful.

“I trust him.”

But not me, Sansa thought angrily. 

“He’s a blacksmith,” Sansa blurted. I’m your own blood.

“He’s a knight,” Arya argued sharply.

Sansa gaped at her little sister. If only the girls of their childhood could see them now. Arya had never cared for gallant knights or their favor but now she kept one who seemed to be in love with her. Sansa wondered if Arya loved him too. It was a strange thought. She could not seem to imagine her sister in love.

“And you don’t know anything about him,” Arya added.

“I’m sure he’s very kind but you should be careful-“

“Are you careful of the Hound?” Arya asked before she could finish her warning.

“That’s different,” Sansa began, ignoring the warmth she felt creeping up her neck.

“You’re right,” Arya interrupted in a tone that betrayed no true emotion. “Gendry never killed for the Lannisters.”

“Arya!”

“Sansa.”

They stared at each other. Sansa felt flushed but Arya’s face could have been made of stone. Sansa didn’t know what to say and Arya seized the chance to ask another question.

“What happened in King’s Landing?” It was a sudden change of topic that jarred Sansa.

“What do you mean?”

“When father was arrested.” The silence had taken a dangerous edge. But Arya continued on ruthlessly. “They tried to arrest me too but failed. They killed Syrio. They killed everyone. Did they come for you too?”

Sansa recovered as quickly as she could. She had told so many lies but this one was caught in her heart. “Yes,” She answered. “I was taken and held by the queen-”

“You’re lying.” Arya’s voice was like a knife. She approached on footsteps that reminded Sansa of a cat. Light but calculated. “At least somewhat. The best lies have bits of truth in them, don’t they?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Arya’s step forward was almost a lunge. “Liar!” In that moment she was entirely the girl Sansa remembered.

“I am not!” 

“Then just say it!” Arya demanded. It was the first time Sansa had heard her sister raise her voice since they had been reunited. “Just say you told them our father’s plans to leave the city! You threw us all to the lions!”

“I-” Sansa looked at the door. She wanted to run. But she didn’t think she could run far enough to escape her sister’s anger. Or the truth. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know,” She said defeated. Her head felt heavy and her throat tight. She had never even let herself think on this. She had buried it somewhere inside herself. But now the guilt was coursing through her. “I didn’t know,” she repeated. “I was only a girl.”

Arya backed away. The space between them felt like leagues. Sansa forced herself to look at her sister. Her grey eyes were sadder than she expected. She had thought to find rage there. And maybe there was deep inside but Arya looked as hurt as she felt. Sansa wanted to cry herself.

“So was I.” 

Arya turned her back and went to the window. Sansa felt she should leave. Arya clearly did not want her. But her feet were stuck in their place. It was quiet for a long time before Arya asked another question. 

“Did you hate us that much?”

“No! I just wanted…I wanted,” her voice died away weakly. It didn’t matter now what she had wanted. “I loved our father.”

“But you never loved me,” Arya argued. Sansa’s eyes darted up to meet hers. Arya was daring her to lie again.

“I know we weren’t close,” Sansa began, carefully. She felt like she was walking on a floor full of broken glass. “But you’re still my sister. I never meant for you to be hurt.”

Arya turned back towards the glass. Sansa didn’t know what to make of that. But she hadn’t been accused of lying again. It felt like something.

She took several deep breaths. Eventually, her heart stopped racing. “What happens now?” Sansa had to speak before the quiet between them choked her.

“We survive. As a pack.” Arya had a look on her face like she was somewhere else. She stared into the darkness, fearlessly. Sansa joined her by the window. It was always dark now. Her sister’s chamber was warm but the sight of the endless night outside made Sansa shiver.

“We’re not going to die,” Sansa said. “We can’t. Not after everything. Not here.”

Arya surprised her then. She reached out and took Sansa’s hand. Their fingers were intertwined and Sansa felt tears spring up into her eyes.

But when Arya spoke her voice was hard.

“Valar morghulis.”


End file.
